Motherhood

God’s Gifts

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“The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings.” — Eric Hoffer

Giving thanks and counting my three sons among my many blessings today.

Every time I was expecting I did hope for a daughter but God knew better what I needed.

I am blessed to have a close relationship with all of them and they show me in many ways their love for me. I was an extremely meek quiet person but through them I found so much strength. ❤️

“Behold, children are a gift of the Lord..”
Psalm 127:3

https://emyloomwordswovenwithinmyheart.com/poems-and-prayers/mother-of-three-sons/

Photo: 1999

Released – Eema is There

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I am watching the release of three young women from captivity. The first of the hostages released in the ceasefire deal between Israel and Gaza.

The newscaster comes on and says…the mothers of the three women will be there at the point of release. Suddenly I am overcome with emotion. I try to repeat what he said and I am so choked up I am unable to speak.

Who do they want the most when they are delivered from the hell after 471 days?

Only their mother, their mom, their mum, their Eema. If only for a moment, only she can bring them to a place of peace. Only she can reassure them, hold them so close that they can hear her heart beat. The first heart they heard while still in the womb. Her heart.

I am praying that at the sound of their Eema’s heart they will be overwhelmed with a sense of tranquility that takes them back to the place of security and protection. A time where they knew no horrors, terror or fear.

In their Eema’s heart they knew only love.

“Hebrew media reports that the IDF has asked the mothers of the three hostages to come to a meeting point at a base next to the Gaza border. From there they are to accompany their daughters as they are taken to the hospital.”
The Times of Israel, January 19, 2025

Eema (pronounced EE-muh): Mother; mom; Website: My Jewish Learning

A Magnificent Vessel

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My womb
A Beautiful form
Like a Greek amphora vessel
With her thin graceful arms
She reaches out to hold
Delicate capsules
Embracing millions of treasures

Precious pearls
Released one by one
Month by month
Year after year
Nearly 40
Each pearl holding
The possibility of new life

This womb
Like the cycles of the moon
Prepared to receive a life
And then time and time again
In disappointment
She shed away the nourishing nest
Only to revive it again

She became the cradle
That caressed the tiny bodies
Of my three sons
She was the warm capsule
Where they were formed
From a single cell
Unseen by the world

My womb was a life giver
She is the essence
Of my feminine
She distinguishes me
As a woman
Present at my birth
This vessel that produced life

She came to life in my youth
And faded away in my old age
We endured the change with grace
Though there were days
That I cursed her
I was in awe of her ability
The miracles she brought

Today she became
My adversary
Within her walls
Grows not life but
An enemy
One that would try
To destroy me

Now I must release
This beautiful friend
She has given me
So much
Soon
I will say goodbye
I will grieve for her

They say she’s old
She no longer fulfills
A purpose
Even if that is so
I cannot toss her aside
As nothing more than tissue
Medical waste

She is more
She has been
The mystery within me
Magical
Wondrous
A masterpiece of God’s creation
Divine by Design

My heart
Is full of sorrow
I don’t want her to leave
But it is time
I am forever grateful
For all the gifts
From this Magnificent Vessel

2024 Trish B ©

A Path Beyond Worldly Careers

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I
may not
have a
career
in the eyes
of the world;
but I feel my
life has touched others
in
a positive way.
I don’t
have the need to prove myself
to the entire world to show
my life has value.
My goals
and aspirations were sacrificed because
of circumstances beyond my control
and poor choices made while
I was still a
child.
I believe
I was given an
above average intelligence
by my Maker,
and I have benefited from it
many times.
I have nothing
to boast about for my mothering;
I’ve made many errors which I
often wish I could change.
I don’t want
to look at what
I could have been,
but at who
I am now;
I am thankful
for the life God has given me.
If my role in life
from the world’s
point-of-view is
that of a
peon,
then I am even more
amazed at the wonders
of
GOD.
My life
may not change history,
but if I try everyday to live It
more like God wants,
if I can show a
little kindness to someone
and help others,
I know God will
remember me when
my life is
over.
This world
offers no rewards…
careers in this world
are only
temporary…
I want
to spend the rest of my life
working at a career
which would exemplify Christ’s life
My failure
at a worldly career
is of no consequence to me;
my career success
is
yet to be
determined.

1987 Redmond, WA

Memories of My Mother

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I have written about my mother many times here. Mostly about our lives in her later years as we both dealt with her declining health and dementia. I’ve been thinking a lot about her the past few weeks with Mother’s Day this Sunday and her 3rd heavenly anniversary on May 23rd.

My mother and I had a close relationship yet it was intermixed with differences that led to frustrations with one another. One of the last birthday cards I got from her had a colorful bug on the front. Inside it said something like.. “mothers and daughters sometimes they bug each other, that’s just what they do.” That was the best and truest card I ever got!

However, in remembering my mother these past few weeks my memories have gone further back than the last few years of her life to things I remember from my childhood. For most of that period in time my mother suffered from depression. As a young child, I remember many occasions where I would see her sobbing, crying tears of of great sorrow as she sat alone. Sometimes she would share her pain with a friend through her tears. At those times I probably overheard more than I should about her heartaches and the abuse that she suffered.  

Even while dealing with depression she managed to try and look on the better side of life. She was resourceful and talented in a variety of ways.  She was an extremely good cook, she made the best fried chicken, not battered – only floured but it was crispy and juicy beyond belief. Other savory favorites she made were fried potato wedges that she tossed in flour before frying which made them come out so crunchy; yellow squash casserole cheesy yummy, it was like a vegetable version of mac and cheese… she made scrumptious mac and cheese too.

In the sweet department she would make peanut brittle that was always perfect. One of her specialties was fried raisin pies.  I know it sounds weird but they were delicious.  I tried making them once and they were OK but it was a bit of a fiddle and I am more the make-it-quick kind of cook.  (I attached a picture of my attempt that was 2011 and I’ve not made them since).

My mother worked off and on as a waitress and she also took in ironing to earn extra cash. In addition, we lived in the country and she always had a big garden; she canned her vegetables and made special relishes (chow-chow as they call it in Texas).  I remember summers in Texas pulling weeds in those big gardens, it was hot and those rows seemed like they were a mile long.

Mother was also an excellent seamstress. She made most of my clothes and her own clothes. She always said she had wanted to be a designer and she would draw her own patterns for ideas she had. She would make the most elaborated western shirts for my step-father. Many people admired the swirled and elaborate yokes and matching pocket flaps she created. She bought fancy pearly snaps from the Tandy Company and attach them to the shirts with a special die and a hammer.

I never remember her taking even a sip of alcohol but she loved her Pepsi Cola in a big mayonnaise jar with a paper towel wrapped around it held in place with a rubber band. Speaking of mayonnaise, she loved mayonnaise and peanut butter sandwiches; just thinking about watching her eat them still makes me cringe. 

She was a woman that always had a heart for God. We attended the Baptist church and one of my earliest memories in church was sitting beside her holding her hand. She was a woman that sought God, she was faithful even though she had many struggles in life. She always did the best she could with what she had and she relied on God as her strength and her shield.

Mother’s Day 2021 was the last Mother’s Day I spent with my mother and just 5 days later, I was called back to Texas to say goodbye. She died on Sunday, May 23rd, Pentecostal Sunday, I played the hymn “Softly and Tenderly” and sang along with the music softly in her ear.

“Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, Calling for you and for me.
See on the portals He’s waiting and watching, Watching for you and for me…Come home, come home, Ye who are weary come home…”

This Mother’s Day my mother is home. She has no more pain, no more sorrow, and she is singing praises to her Lord and Savior.

Mother and me 1986

My attempt at fried raisin pies.

Fifty Year Celebrations

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Someone ask me recently about who I attended the prom with. As I never went a day of high school, it is an obvious assumption I never went to a prom. I would have graduated in 1974 but left school in March 1970. Up until that point I was a straight A student and really without a lot of effort.

In addition, I have never attended any type of ball or fancy occasion. I have never had an evening gown or even a fancy party dress. I guess I’d have to go on a cruise to need a fancy dress, but you are never going to catch me on a cruise ship either!

So, back to the prom. I contacted one of my childhood friends, who I would have graduated with, to inquire about when the prom was held for the Conroe Tigers class of 1974. Interestingly enough, she told me her and her husband did not go, something about it being too foo-foo. However, she sent out a request on social media and found that prom night was April 27, 1974.

Where was I? I was in Anchorage, Alaska at Elmendorf Air Force Base and I had a 9-day old newborn son. Aaron Kelly was born on Thursday morning, April 18, 1974. Back then was still at a time when we did not know the sex of our babes beforehand. I really, really wanted a daughter and for the slightest moment after he was born, I was maybe a little disappointed but that quickly faded when I held that fair haired infant in my arms.

In May, the class of 1974 will be celebrating 50 years since their graduation but next week, I will help my son, one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received, celebrate his 50th birthday.

I was only 18 when this very special gift entered my world. Since that first day, he has been a blessing and joy in my life. He has always brought joy to my heart, made me smile, made me proud, made me know I was loved. He served his country and he served over 22 years as a police officer. During that time he saved many lives, rescued abducted teens, sought justice for the elderly and abused, and helped people on one of the worst days of their lives. One day, I believe he will see the results of all the good he did. Although there is no thanks sometimes in this world, my hope is that in the end God will show him all the fruits of his actions. I hope to be there to see them too.

I never experienced the traditional high school teen events and I don’t have a 50th Class Reunion to attend but I am not feeling deprived, I was blessed with a gift that never stopped giving.

I love him and he loves me and that’s the way it will always be.

The Queen

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I was up at 3:30 am this morning, even earlier than my usual 4 am, having a cup of warm strong coffee and perusing through quick news on twitter when I see an announcement from Buckingham Palace regarding the Queen’s health.  I do think it is odd and rather ominous as I don’t recall seeing any such announcements in the past.  It was not long before all the news agencies picked up on it too and speculations were flying and reporting of her family making their way to Balmoral.

My heart sank, for two reasons.  One, thinking of her family because to us she has been “The Queen.,”  the queen my entire lifetime, but she is their mum and grandmother.  I think of my own recent loss of my mother and if this is the Queen’s time, I know the pain and heartache that is ahead for them over the next few hours and days.  After my mom died I found a brooch she had of a crown, I had never seen it before, but I kept it.  Today I put it on in honor of Queen Elizabeth and a reminder to think of her and her family.

Over the past few weeks in an effort to avoid the news on current events, I have been rewatching The Crown on Netflix.  Just a few weeks ago I watched the episode of her Coronation.  In that episode, it is infers that upon placing the crown on her head the Queen becomes part of the divine, she was anointed.  

So the second reason, my heart sank is that I was thinking of her life. The long reign that she has had, I realized that there may never be another that can fill her place. She is part of an generation that is no more. Part of the greatest generation, she was guided by great statesmen and led her nation through many changes.

As I write this, the announcement has just been made that Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth II has passed.  She was the last of an era of devoted loyal servants.  Whether divine and or extraordinary woman… May she now rest in peace.

Mother’s Day

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Sunday is Mother’s Day, nearly a year since my mother passed and a final of firsts for me, my first Mother’s Day without my mother and the final event of the past year of marking each first without her.

Last Mother’s Day, I flew to Texas to see my mom and I realized it would be our last together. Since her surgery the prior October, her health had dramatically declined. Over the years I tried to travel to see her on Mother’s Day and her birthday.   They were special occasions for her, ones that if missed, she would feel slighted and perhaps unloved.

Those set apart occasions that the greeting card and florist benefit from are not so important to me.   I appreciate the love and attention I receive year-round, sometimes it is just a simple text to say “Hi” or “I am thinking of you.”  Expressions that are sent without any expectation because of designated day are cherished in my heart.

Understand, my mother got many many expressions of my love throughout the year but those days were especially important to her, perhaps an old traditional way of thinking that this was a day set aside for Mothers, and because of that, she expected recognition and honor and I honored her.

In 2001, my mother came to visit me at Mother’s Day. We attended a Ladies Luncheon to honor mothers. The women in the group each wrote a short portrayal of their mother and shared it. Here is what I wrote May 12, 2001.

My mother was named Helen Patricia but she prefers to be called Patsy.
  One thing I admire about my mother is that she is able to get up in front of people and speak.  Something I didn’t inherit from her.  However,  I really wanted to share something about her today.  She lives in Texas; she writes poetry;  she teaches and speaks to Women’s Groups at other Churches; she has been involved in the leadership of Girl Scouts. 
  I grew up in a home with a believing, prayerful, faithful mother in the South at a time when prejudices and hatred surrounded us.  But I grew up knowing no prejudice.  My mother loved people; all people, she taught and had respect for everyone and she would do all she could to help others.
  For several years my mother was a single mom with three young children and although we did not have a lot, my mother always had something to share with others who had less.  Whether it was a place to stay; a few dollars; a meal or just watching someone’s children so they could work.  She always shared whatever she had with a grateful heart.
  My mother has also always had a love for elderly ladies.  Today she teaches the senior ladies’ Sunday school class at her church and she has for the past twenty years.  So many times people are too busy for the elderly, but my mother loves each one of her ladies as if they were her own mother or grandmother.  She takes the time to be with them, look after them, minister to them.  She would tell you that she has learned so much from these ladies and receives immeasurable blessings from knowing them. 
  Over the years my mother has seen most all of her class go home to be with the Lord.  At one time she had twenty ladies in her class now she has only four.  The oldest is Mae; she is 104.  Mae never had any children.  Every week, my mother goes to her house, washes her dishes, answers her mail, brings her lunch and sits and eats lunch with her.
  When I go to visit my mother, I go around and visit with her ladies too.  They tell me how sweet my mother is and I’d have to agree.

Now, Mother’s Day is a day with no plane trips, no cards, no flowers, no brunch but years’ worth of Mother’s Day memories. I pray where ever her spirit is today she knows that I tried to show her that I loved her. After this “final first” celebration without my mother, I wonder if I will begin to let go and not remind myself on each special day that she is gone or how many months have passed since she left? Will special occasions just be that or will they always be one without my mother?

Happy Mother’s Day, Mother.  I did all I could to show my love, I hope you felt it.

Mother of Three Sons

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For over forty-one years, I had a son with me.
First one, then two, then one, two briefly and back to one.
A total of three.

They, all three, have never ceased to;
Amaze me, puzzle me, surprise me…
Love me.
They’ve scared me, challenged me,
Pushed me to a level I didn’t think I had the strength to go.

Through the eyes of my sons;
I have learned about every snail in the garden;
that under any rock one might find a salamander.
I’ve seen Lizards and gecko’s found from our backyard and around the world
Beaches are places where we find, crabs, starfish, and little fishes in the pools.
I’ve been a nurse to countless abandoned and injured birds.

I’ve walked the forest to find, the smallest fragment of a robin shell under a tree,
Long-lost feathers from every type of mysterious bird, and
Every acorn, seed pod and piece of drift wood is a treasure.
They’d find the tiniest flowers that I may have over-looked
had the careful, watchful eye of a boy, not been beside me.

My sons have had every pet imaginable, from
Stick bugs, to hermit crabs to hedgehogs to Snakes,
Goldfish, tropical fish, chickens, ducks and doves.
Hamsters that we mourned when we thought gone, but only hibernating
and once even a grasshopper that came back from CA on the plane.
Add a handful cats and a couple of dogs that lived long past the boyhood years.

I’ve cheered them on at baseball games,
Served my volunteer time at the concession stand,
Watched football games in the cold;
Soccer in the rain and basketball in the hot gym.
All for enjoyment,
Only to realize to some parents this is a very serious competitive thing.

There have been times of mischief and trouble,
Mistakes forgotten and forgiven.
I’ve seen their hearts broken by girls from the age of 5 to 33;
It never gets any easier boy to man.
Losses from wars, life changing accidents and fate…
Some of those memories still weigh heavy on my heart,

I survived it all, and came out a stronger, maybe a little wiser too.
Some days I wish I could go back;
And be more patient, more understanding, more loving,
Take more time to listen and not be in such a hurry.
That we could play more, talk more.

Some days, I long to just sit and cuddle,
With a little boy who thinks I’m his whole world.
Though I can’t have that time back,
I do know that they all love me.
Sometimes they have to put up with me.
Like when I want to be a matchmaker, or I fret or worry.


I am the mother of three sons; I am very blessed.

© 2011 Trish B

Photo 1999. Written In 2011 – they just keep getting older but not me.

The Long Goodbye

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Tomorrow, I say my final goodbye to the person who gave me life, my mother. She crossed the threshold from this earth into her heavenly home on Pentecost Sunday, the day God sent His Spirit as a comforter, a helper and a friend.

I had been sitting by her bedside for ten days. The last five she was unresponsive, “resting peacefully” the nurses would say. However the days that proceeded those she suffered so much pain it broke my heart to hear her cries.

Sunday morning, I whispered in her ear, “Today is Pentecost Mother, the day God sent his spirit to earth. Perhaps he will come today to take you home.”

My mother needed the comfort, help and friendship from the Holy Spirit these past few months and weeks. She relied on Him from the time she was 16. He was her stronghold and guide through many difficult days.

It was ten long days of saying goodbye, of singing hymns, of holding her hand, of listening to sweet anecdotes from staff and others that loved her.

I thought I was prepared, I thought I would be relieved, but the moment her spirit left her body and she took her last breath, as peaceful as it was, the reality that she was gone overwhelmed me with a flood of emotion that was unexpected.

The truth is, no matter how many days you prepare yourself, there are very few sorrows in life that are as deep as losing your Mother.

If it were Possible Not to Forget

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What do you do when your mother forgets you?

Christmas 2016, I surprised my mother with a visit. As I stood at her door she greeted me with a simple “hello” and told me to come inside before her cat got out. Once inside, she looked at me and said, “Do I know you?” I replied…”I don’t know, do you know me?” Then she realized who I was and the tears began to flow. That was three years ago and I chalked it up to the fact that she had recently fallen, hence the reason for my surprise visit.

After this visit there were several more and one that included visiting her doctor with her. He had been telling my step-sister (who will will call my sister here on out because she is closer to me than biological siblings I have and I love her with every ounce of my being) and me that the time was coming she should not be living on her own. She was fighting for her autonomy with every bit of fight she had left. She avoided going out, she told white lies, she pleaded with her friend to not tell us about her memory lapses or drives in the night thinking it was daytime…she knew she was losing a battle with her failing memories and ability to know what was going on around her, to manage her finances and take her medications.

My sister and I visited several assisted living facilities and nursing facilities. We encouraged (begged and pleaded) with Mother to come with us but she would have none of it. She wanted to stay in her house until she died.

Fast forward 18 months, on a July morning she walked outside her house, tripped and fell. As a result of the fall she had fractured her pelvis and was placed in a nursing facility to recuperate. When it came time to make a decision to go home she was insistent that she was going home. I was torn because after her few months in the nursing home she seemed more cognitive of what was going on and seemed to be moving better as well. All this was a result of better diet, attention and care, consistent medications, lack of worries or stress from being in survival mode. Although it was difficult, with her doctors help, we did tell her she would no longer be able to live on her own.

note I live 2000 miles away and although I don’t she her every week, over the past year and a half I have been to see her eight times. The last several times, when I walk in with my sister she looks a me for a moment but pretty quickly realizes who I am. Last week, I traveled down and with my sister went to tell her that her step son had passed away. She had claimed Albert as her own when he was ten years old, the youngest of all of us he past away suddenly and unexpectedly at 59. When we walked in she said to my sister who sees her every other week, “Who is that woman with you?” My sister replies you don’t know who this is? It’s your daughter. Sister quickly reassures me that the reason she did recognize me was due to the fact my hair was up in a bun.  She says that Mother sometimes doesn’t recognize her at first if her hair is in a ponytail.

We held Mother’s hand and told her the sad news about Albert and his passing.  All in all she took it well,  but repeated the same questions over and over about how, where, funeral etc. We took her to dinner and when we left she was a little weepy but accepting. The next day we came back and took her to lunch with her friend. We had a good lunch, then went back to her room and put up valentine decorations and gave her some new sweaters and blouses we had gotten her. She was in good spirits although she still keep repeating the same questions, not fully grasping or remembering the answers. When we left she walked us to the door and we said our goodbyes.

Today, one week later, I called her to see how she was doing. It was my second call this week. The first thing she said to me today was, “Did you hear Albert died?’ I said, “Yes I heard. Remember Paulette and I came to tell you last week?” No, she didn’t remember me coming, she remembers my sister but not me. She asks again about Albert’s funeral, and then switches the subject  tells me she got new shoes but she doesn’t know where she got them or what they look like. Then she asks me, “When are you coming to see me?”

It is a little stab in the heart, she doesn’t know me but she does; she wants me to visit but she doesn’t remember. I dread the day she doesn’t know me when I come or doesn’t ask when I am coming back. Sadly,  I know one day my mother will forget me.

 

Patsy Cats

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File this under, “Crazy things you do.”

I am up at 2AM perusing Ebay for kitty cat pins.   My mom, Patsy, is/was a Texas cat lady extraordinaire. She always had a cat on her lap, in addition she had shelves full of figurines, teapots, cookie jars, bookends and every sort of ceramic cat thing ever made. Mostly all gifts from her friends, kids and grandkids that knew she would “just love them.”

Last year I shared about my mom’s dementia and fall which lead to her being unable to live on her own. I shared about the difficulties of clearing her house. Trying to treat her treasures with respect and knowing I could not keep everything. I took a few cats figurines, my sister took a few, I gave some “Patsy Cats” to her friends, I brought some back to Washington and gave to my friends who had met my mom.  “Patsy Cats” were re-homed around the country yet many remained that in the end we donated to charity. It was heartbreaking to dismantle my mother’s possessions and treasures but it had to be done.

When the doctor told her she would not be able to live on her own, my sister and I went out to her house and picked up a few treasures to decorate her room. A book shelf, pictures and several cats to put on the shelves. In addition to all the cats mentioned above, my mom also had a large collection of kitty cat brooches. She had them on her sweaters and blouses and never left the house without being adorned with a golden cat pin. When we were at her house, I found a small metal box, when I opened it I found full of all her brooches.  There were at least 20 in there plus all the ones we found still pinned on her sweaters she probably had 40 or more. I took them to her at the home, at least she could have all of these.

Now comes the sad and tragic bit. My mom has been in the nursing home a little over year now and all the pins are gone.  A few months ago my sister was going to put one on her sweater as she was taking her to lunch and she couldn’t find the box. She told the staff that her box was missing and they did a search. They found the it in a ladies room next door but only one pin inside. You cannot get angry because like my mom, this lady doesn’t comprehend what is going on.  Matter of fact, she insisted that the box was hers.  The pins? They could not be found. Are they hidden around the care facility somewhere? Did she give them away? We do not know.

8BA74499-CFE9-4BFD-A796-E8064664AAF5So here I am at 2AM searching Ebay for kitty cat brooches. I thought these things weren’t so much valuable as they were treasures, but apparently not. They are anywhere from 5-30 dollars or more. So I bought five, a couple were similar to ones she owned.  I am going to bring them to her when I go down to Texas next month. Whether she realizes she has lost so many is hard to say, but when she sees these she will “just love them!”

Thanksgiving

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I love Thanksgiving!

A truly American Holiday that transcends all beliefs. A day we can all participate in regardless of our background or religious affiliations. Being thankful seems like such an easy task yet so often fall short.

This morning I am remembering many Thanksgiving days past. Ones from my childhood with my Grandfather, Wallace Van Houten. He was bigger than life and made sure our plates were never empty. He also ate dessert first! I think today pie will be my first choice. Those dinners also included my Uncle Wm always loud and boisterous, he made us laugh, and my Aunt Barbara who I admired so much. She was the Martha Stewart before Martha. They have all moved to heavenly realms but the memories and memories of those special Thanksgivings,  will always live in my heart.

The first Thanksgiving Chrissie and I had together, Chris got up from the table and made a plate for Lucy my little dog. A tradition that went on for the rest of her years.

Multiple Thanksgivings over the past 20 years included many sweet friends that have all moved on to new places and stages in life. At home in Snoqualmie, one year we filled the dining room and living room with a super extended table. I think there were 17 of is that years from 2 months old to ninety. Although we are miles apart these days, those days, and those Thanksgiving memories, welded us a family that God organized and knitted together.

The grand to the simple. For several years when Josh was young, we celebrated in Hawaii at the Old Sugar Factory, warm breezes and the fragrance of flower leis around our neck did make us feel like we were in paradise. In 2014 our Thanksgiving dinner was a turkey sandwich in that same son’s hospital room. To say we were thankful for the blessings and miracles that year doesn’t express the full extent of our gratitude.

Finally, this year is the third year I am able to return to Texas and celebrate Thanksgiving with my mom and Paulette at the American Legion in Corsicana, TX.  Back in the day my mom and her husband could put on a spread fit for royalty. They were both extremely good cooks. I remember all the favorites my mom would make and I have never been able to duplicate; southern cornbread stuffing, ambrosia, sweet potato pie and the best squash casserole anyone ever tasted. Once, I reminded my mom of that casserole and how she made the best fried chicken fried on the stove in a cast iron skillet. She said, “Those days are long gone.”

Yes, those days are long gone, but the memories will last forever.

One day, I will look back on these Thanksgiving dinners at the American Legion and be thankful I had these days with my mom and create a new set of memories. Life progresses forward and the foods, scenes and people may change but one thing remains the same: We have so much to be thankful for.

Child of my Childhood

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just a young girl, a child
very meek and very mild

suffering abuse
of adult mistrust and misuse

desperate to escape
the next incident of childhood rape

summer of nineteen sixty-nine
appeared a tall hero and seemingly lifeline

not as much a child as man
together, young formed a plan

to many foolish though it seemed
somehow a life was redeemed

a child within the union set
left behind the evil threat

this child born of desperate time
a living doll that was mine

infant years held strong love
this doll of mine i write of

so many years between
understanding was lost… unseen

mother child in heart retains
regrets of youthful mistakes and pains

now this child of my childhood
long has left age of boyhood

starting now a fiftieth year
since child became a mother here

love, frustration, hope and despair
all have been a part of this pair

both older now and wiser still
overcoming lost good will

reaching out to understand
events that all the years have spanned

child of my childhood know
love was always there to bestow

to a child who forever changed
a life that needed rearranged

the years that life will here to span
know you were part of God’s intended plan

from a burden path a child was set free
heart full of gratitude forever for thee

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Mother of Three Sons

Asideemyloom Leave a comment

by Trish B on Monday, 19 September 2011 at 17:07

For over forty-one years
I had a son with me.
First one, then two, then one,
Two briefly and back to one.
A total of three.

They, all three, have never ceased to;
Amaze me, puzzle me, surprise me;
Love me.
They’ve scared me, challenged me,
Pushed me to a level I didn’t think I had the strength to go.

Through the eyes of my sons,
I have learned about every snail in the garden;
That under any rock one might find a salamander,
I’ve seen Lizards and gecko’s found from our backyard and around the world
Beaches are places where we find, crabs, starfish, and little fishes in the pools.

I’ve been a nurse to countless abandoned and injured birds,
Walked the forest to find, the smallest fragment of a robin shell under a tree,
Long-lost feathers from every type of mysterious bird, and
Every acorn, seed pod and piece of drift wood is a treasure.
They’d find the tiniest flowers that I may have over-looked.
Had the careful, watchful eye of a boy, not been beside me.

My sons have had every pet imaginable, from
Stick bugs, to hermit crabs to hedgehogs to Snakes
Goldfish, tropical fish, chickens, ducks and doves.
Hamsters that we mourned when we thought gone, but only hibernating
And once even a grasshopper that came back from CA on the plane.
A handful cats and a couple of dogs that lived long past the boyhood years.

I’ve cheered them on at baseball games,
Served my volunteer time at the concession stand,
Watched football games in the cold;
Soccer in the rain and basketball in the hot gym.
All for enjoyment,
Only to realize to some parents this is a very serious competitive thing.

There have been times of mischief and trouble,
Mistakes forgotten and forgiven.
I’ve seen their hearts broken by girls from the age of 5 to 33;
It never gets any easier boy to man.
Losses from wars, life changing accidents and fate…
Some of those memories still weigh heavy on my heart,
I survived it all, and came out a stronger, maybe a little wiser too.

Some days I wish I could go back;
And be more patient, more understanding, more loving,
Take more time to listen and not be in such a hurry.
That we could play more, talk more.
Some days, I long to just sit and cuddle
With a little boy who thinks I’m his whole world.

Sadly, I can’t have that time back,
I do know that they all love me.
Sometimes they have to put up with me.
Like when I want to be a matchmaker or I fret or worry.
I am the mother of three sons; I am very blessed.

Trish 2011©️